


Satinalia

by CaptainSaku



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bonus picture inside!, Fluff, I think?? It's riding the line between fluff and something more but it's not explicit, M/M, implied sex, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:47:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29140986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSaku/pseuds/CaptainSaku
Summary: Long before Adaar was the Inquisitor, he was a merc, of sorts. For a very long time now, he and his boss have been gravitating toward each other, and dancing a strange sort of dance, flirting yet not taking. Finally, on one fateful Satinalia evening, their wishes are fulfilled.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Original Character, Noam Adaar/Ludovico Spina





	Satinalia

**Author's Note:**

> Once again this was a piece for @caffeinatedrogue on Tumblr. Noam and Vi are her babies, I'm merely breathing life into them. The art at the bottom is by her! Go give her a follow if you're still on there.

Their first time is a drunken frenzy.

It’s Satinalia, or close to, and they’d both had too little too much to drink. The house felt stuffy and noisy, the space too tight, too crowded. Family is family, and they both love them dearly, but it was warm and they’d drunk everyone else under the table, and _Maker_ they needed some fresh air.

The suggestion had come from Vi, a seemingly innocent one, uttered with a crooked smile and a flash of mischief in his eyes. “Let’s go for a stroll,” he’d said. Noam had agreed.

He could never say no to Vi.

And _oh_ , this time, was he glad that he hadn’t said no, for he had no idea that such a building existed in the area. Ludovico led him to a chapel, small and ancient, perched upon a hill a short hike away from the house, at the end of a winding dirt path, packed and trodden and well-worn.

They’d had to break in. It was a place of worship, and it shouldn’t have been closed, but it was Satinalia, and they weren’t supposed to be there, and—

And…

_Oh._

He’d stared. On the outside, the chapel looked run-down and unassuming, perhaps even dingy. He could never have been prepared for what was waiting for him inside. It was _beautiful_ , the walls and columns heavily clad in gold, delicate filigree adorning the latter from top to bottom, the ceiling frescoed, the altar at the end pristine and decorated with bouquets of crystal grace even if nobody was there for the night. Statues in the image of Andraste and the Maker were recessed into the walls, watching over the pews with an air of magnanimity and kindness. Noam had never seen anything like it, and for a few minutes he stood there, just inside, transfixed by the display before him, simply… _looking_.

What he didn’t see was the way Ludovico watched him, the self-satisfied smile, the sure steps he took ahead of him, tugging him further inside to admire the artwork and architecture.

And once he had had his fill, they had sat at the frontmost pew and just… talked. About anything and everything and nothing, about life, and meaning and religion, the kind of deep talk that tends to come when one is drunk and quiet and solemn and the filter that usually keeps the words in check seems to have turned off.

“You pray?” The question had tumbled from Noam’s lips as he stole a glance at Vi, making a brave attempt at looking sober, which would have _almost_ been convincing had it not been for the slight drawl and slur to his speech. It was clear that he was finding his companion’s faith hard to believe.

“I do. And I consider myself a man of religion. What of it?”

“Nothing,” he’d shrugged. “You just… didn’t strike me as the religious sort, I guess.”

Vi had laughed at that. “Well, I’m no pious old woman come to ask for absolution, if that is what you are thinking. Where I come from, in my dear Antiva, most everyone is Andrastian.” He’d leaned forward, then, weight braced on his thighs as his eyes scanned the statue of Andraste. “I suppose, if there _is_ a Maker up there, then I’d rather be on his good side. Wouldn’t you?”

“That’s very… you.”

“And you? Do you believe?”

Noam had hummed softly as he considered the question, his eyes going from the fresco on the ceiling above them to Vi’s face. Such a pretty man, that he was. “Well… put it this way. If there is no Maker, then things are the same as ever, right? And if there _is_ a Maker, I’m not sure he likes me much at all.”

“No? You’re still alive, aren’t you? That’s more than many people can say.”

“Well, if you put it that way…” He’d shrugged and sat back. “Nah, I think I’d rather be some human noble draped in silk sheets, sunken into a lovely down mattress, safely ensconced in his gilded bedroom.”

“Perhaps you should find simpler things to wish for.”

“What can I say? I am a man of ambition,” he’d grinned, and Vi’s eyes had locked onto his just as he asked, “And you? What do _you_ wish for?”

“What if I said I wished for you?”

Ludovico had not even hesitated, had not given Noam the chance to reply before going in for the kiss. It was sloppy, ardent, everything he’d ever hoped for and more. It was desperate and yearning, all-consuming, hot, and heady.

Their first time is a drunken frenzy. It is late in the day and they’re alone in the Maker’s home, and they are _here_ , well into their drinks. Their first time is not perfect; it’s hands all over, and teeth clacking, and fingers knotting in each other’s hair. It’s tongues sliding against each other, questing lips, a burning desire. It is the fulfillment of a fantasy neither of them had quite thought possible, much as they had both _wanted_ it. It is _theirs_ , and it is so very _them_ , to be desecrating the home of the Maker with their inebriated debauchery.

The way back home takes longer than it should have; the fuse has been lit, and they cannot keep their hands to themselves. So they stop, and they pull each other into every nook and cranny possible just to get another taste.

Their first time was a drunken frenzy, a moment of revelation lost to the throes of passion. But once it is through, and they are back home in their respective beds, some of the haze banished from their minds… they hope it is not the last.


End file.
